


Not So Different After All

by Gailgameshy



Category: Full Monty (1997), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gailgameshy/pseuds/Gailgameshy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Intended as a humorous one shot that quickly developed plot and some angst.  Belle has moved in with Rumpelstiltskin after everyone regains their memories and magic is brought to the town.  But he isn't making a move, which leaves her time to learn how to use the internet.  She discovers some very interesting things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Different After All

Diclaimer:  I do not own the characters or setting.  I am only borrowing them to play with for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Rum, could you come here please?”

 

Rumplestiltskin smiled as he left the kitchen, heading to the study where his Belle (finally, again, always HIS) had recently been teaching herself more about this world they now lived in. A world formerly without magic, but slowly integrating with their world. And so far, Belle had discovered computers and the internet. For a girl who thanked him with tears in her eyes when he brought her a book, it was a miracle that she was determined to get as much use out of as she could.

 

“What did you find this time love? I can't imagine anything would top that Project Gutenberg you were telling me about last week.”

 

Rumplestiltskin was brought up short by the sight that greeted him when he actually reached the study. Belle sat at the desk, not looking at him, but there was a pile of clothing on the desk next to her, topped with a hat, and a song softly played in the background. The computer screen was dark, allowing him to see the smirking face of his True Love. “What's this all about then love?” he asked, the song prompting both a smile and a feeling of terror, although he did not know why.

 

“Tell me Rum, did you ever allow yourself to remember much of Mr. Gold's past?” Rumplestiltskin felt the terror grow larger as Belle turned to look at him, the smirk not abating in the least.

 

“Only what pertained to this town. I was too busy trying to track down everyone's past and beloved mementos to worry about it. And given their fear, it's not like any of them would care what my life was supposed to have been like.”

 

The smirk on Belle's face faded into a genuine smile as she stood, pulling her love into a kiss at the tinge of bitterness in his voice. “So you were unaware that your name was not originally Simon Gold? That your birth name was Gary Schofield? A steel factory worker?” At that, Rumplestiltskin shook his head, foggy memories starting to unfold in his mind. As Belle opened her mouth to continue revealing what she had found, the false memories suddenly cleared up, and Belle had the honor of being the first person to see what Rumplestiltskin looked like when shocked, terrified, and embarrassed all at the same time.

 

“No, there is no way you could have-” His denial was cut short as Belle, with a laugh of (nearly) pure delight, turned the computer monitor back on, revealing a picture of a younger Gold wearing nothing but a bright red thong and a security worker's hat.

 

“Oh yes, _dearie_ ,” she practically sang. “Seems they let someone record the whole thing, and they ended up posting it for poor frustrated maiden princesses to see. So if you don't want this sent to Sheriff Swan, I believe we need to make a deal.”

 

With an almost visible donning of the mask he had hidden behind for years, Rumplestiltskin tilted his head and smiled. “And what is it you are after, dearie? A bigger room? More books, perhaps? Regina's head on a silver plate?” He looked off into the distance as he spoke his last offer, and the grin he wore indicated how much pleasure he would take in getting that particular item for his Love.

 

With another laugh, Belle hopped up on the desk, smiling as though her love was a rather dim-witted puppy, cute but not too bright. “That would be what you want, Rum. No, I'm after something a little closer to home as it were.” She reached out and snagged Rumplestiltskin's tie, pulling him closer to her. Another kiss distracted him as she grabbed the hat off the pile of clothing next to her and set it on his head. She ended the kiss, and with a smile she probably intended as mischievous but came closer to a grin any other citizen of Storybrooke would have called Rumplestiltskin-esque, whispered in his ear, “I want a live show.”

 

Any amusement she felt at the situation ended as Rumplestiltskin quickly straightened up and backed away from her, pulling the hat from his head and tossing it on the ground with an improbably serious expression on his face. “No.”

 

“No?” The master manipulator known as Rumplestiltskin recoiled slightly at the quiet anger simmering in that single word. “Why ever not?”

 

“Do you want to start with the fact that I'm nearly 20 years older, quite a bit more crippled, or do you need another reason?”

 

“Oh yes, because 20 years means a hell of a lot after the first 300. And don't you _dare_ try to claim you're still crippled. Not when we both know for damn sure the first thing you did with the magic you brought here was heal yourself. You haven't used the cane in the last three months. Try a reason that someone who lived with you for over a year won't see through in the blink of an eye,” Belle spat at him.

 

And as quick as a blink, Belle was not the only person brimming with frustration and anger in the room. “Because if I lose even one more barrier around you, I won't stop until I have you screaming under me. And despite what you think, I am not so monstrous that I will defile you as part of a  _deal,_ dearie.” Rumplestiltskin regained his lost ground, leaning close and resting his forehead against hers, but never losing the edge in his voice. “You mean more to me than anyone except my son, and you will be treated as the princess you are, whether you like it or not.” And with the promise/threat hanging in the air, Rumplestiltskin turned around and walked out of the room, leaving Belle still sitting on the desk, her hand over her mouth, tears in her eyes. Tears of love or anger, even she wasn't sure. She lost the fight to keep them contained when she heard the front door slam.

 

~~g~~o~~w~~a~~t~~c~~h~~f~~u~~l~~l~~m~~o~~n~~t~~y~~

 

Rumplestiltskin stormed from the house, feeling for a moment as though he had flashed back in time to after that first fateful kiss shared with his Belle, his True Love. Although even in his anger, he knew he wouldn't, couldn't, allow himself to leave her again. He just needed some time to think, feel,  _rage_ , away from her, where she couldn't be hurt by the darkness that still resided in him. With a lightning fast wistful smile he thought of the rooms he used to have, filled with things he could throw and break when the rage became too great for him to contain. 

 

After a time, he looked around to find that he was outside Regina's house. Well, what had been Regina's house, given that no one had seen hide or hair of her since everyone regained their memories and the magic flowed and poured over the town. With a manic grin, he picked up a rock and pitched it through a window. The crashing seemed to alleviate some of the emotional pain that filled him, so he gleefully grabbed another rock and threw it, followed by another and another, until there were no more rocks within reach.

 

Anyone had dealt with Rumplestiltskin in their previous lives would have shuddered with remembered fear/disgust at the giggle that echoed down the street as he practically skipped up to the door, and with a snap of his fingers, unlocked the door and walked in, unmindful of the broken glass that littered the hallway. They would have also been quick to assure themselves that it was only a trick of the shadows in the house that gave his skin a slight green sheen, and it was only the exertion that was making his hair look not quite as kempt as Mr. Gold was in the habit of keeping his. That's all.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

Rumplestiltskin sat at the desk of Storybrooke's former mayor. Demolishing all the breakables left in the house had taken the edge off the anger, and he was able to consider the predicament he and his Love found themselves in with at least a trace of his normal calculation. The past three months had been... interesting, to say the least. Tears still came to his eyes when he thought of that moment he had seen Belle in his shop, sure that Regina had managed to pull one last trick out of her sleeve in revenge for him absconding with his potion. Once he confirmed that it was actually Belle, he could only allow himself a second to bask in the pure joy of having her back, although it was admittedly easier to pull away once he remembered that she had no clue who he was.

 

But, oh, once the memories and the magic were back,  _that_ was as close to a perfect a moment as any he'd ever experienced. In the wake of the purple fog, with but a quick thought, his leg was as strong as it had ever been in the Dark Castle, and he was able to drop the cane and take his Belle into his arms. They stood by the well, holding each other for several long minutes before speaking. The first question Belle asked him was what had happened, as she hadn't received many memories other than being institutionalized at a  _very_ early age, so all she knew was the cell she had lived in until Jefferson released her.

 

The explanation of the curse, and his place in the world they found themselves in took nearly half an hour, as Rumplestiltskin made sure to explain why she had all her memories back. And it was with great relief that he finally told Belle the story of Baelfire, and why he created the curse to begin with. And he would forever remember the look on her face when she made the connection, realizing that reaching his son was why he had been so adamant about retaining his magic. Thankfully, the magic that had been released and attached itself to him contained only a trace of the Dark Curse, granting him leave to kiss his Belle to his heart's content, and that had occupied enough time that the day drew to a close before they made their way to his house.

 

Given the day's excitement, and their past, it was no real surprise that neither wanted the other out of their sight, and so after a light meal, they had curled up in bed together, falling asleep holding each other. They hadn't slept apart since, although that was all they did. But it did mean that Rumplestiltskin witnessed the nearly nightly tormented dreams Belle had, where she woke up crying, checking for restraints and needle marks. And he maintained a mental tally, vowing to take an inch of flesh from Regina for every night his Love had her rest interrupted due to Regina's interference. For he knew it would have been only another month at most before he would have lost the battle to keep his distance and tracked Belle down to beg for forgiveness and have her return to the Dark Castle.

 

But that was neither here nor there. The crux of their problem now was that she believed they should be moving forward in their relationship, physically. But he knew he could never forgive himself if he hurt her, and he honestly did not know if he could restrain himself when they reached that point. There was still too much darkness in him for completion to come amidst gentle caresses and softly spoken declarations of love. And yet, if he only gave her what he felt she deserved, he would be keeping a part of himself from her, something that (should she ever find out, and she would) would also hurt her. Which meant he refrained from anything more physical than the kisses they shared, even if there had been some that raised the ambient temperature of the room by quite a few degrees. And so he hurt her in this way.

 

And there was still Regina to contend with. He knew she would never be content with slinking into the shadows, fading from memory and the world. Her impatience combined with her hatred made that impossible. No, something was in the works. It was only a question of exactly when it would occur. And even with his experience, he did not know who the target would be. It was a toss-up between him, Sheriff Swan, and Snow White. Or it could be all three. He was determined that Belle would not get caught in the crossfire. Not again. She had already suffered enough on his account.

 

Not that he was foolhardy enough to explain all this to her. Belle would certainly categorize all of this under “No one decides my fate but me.” His brave princess, so sure that she could take anything and everything thrown at her. Surely one day, it would all become too much and then she would break, leaving him once again with nothing but regret and a chipped cup. And he would rather not risk being the thing that broke her, for that would surely kill him. But then again, the status quo was slowly killing them both. So it was time to, for once, not be a coward and talk to Belle.

 

With purpose, Rumplestiltskin stood and walked out of the house, the smile on his face growing with the crunching noises produced each time he took another step. If anyone saw him leaving and walking home, and they had seen him enter the house, they surely would have been relieved to see him looking more like Mr. Gold and less like the devious imp from the Enchanted Forest.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

When Rumplestiltskin returned home, he was surprised to find it dark, and the door locked. He quickly entered and went straight to the study, both hoping and fearing Belle was still in there. She was not. The pile of clothing was still there, and the hat had been replaced on top of the stack. Next to it was a note.

 

**Rumplestiltskin,**

**I'm at the Charmings'. I'll return tomorrow.**

**Belle**

 

Rumplestiltskin collapsed into the desk chair, holding the note, and didn't move until he heard footsteps enter the study behind him.

 

He raised his head slowly, and without turning to look, asked, “Here to gather your things, dearie?” Belle's heart nearly broke as he both tried and failed to reach the flippant tones of his cursed self. In a flash, she knelt before him, holding his face in her hands and making him look her in the eye.

 

“More like I'm here to ensure what's mine is here to stay, actually.” Belle's smiled sadly at the fear and despair that emanated from him in nearly corporeal waves.

 

“I've told you I won't leave you, or let you leave again,” he whispered.

 

“But it would be impossible for you to leave me when you have yet to give yourself to me fully. I just don't understand why you hold yourself back. I love you Rumplestiltskin, and I know you love me too, but there is only so much that love can do.” Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes, unable to look at the pain etched on his Love's face as her voice broke and she pleaded with him. “Just tell me, so we can move on to our happily ever after.”

 

“I've told you before, monsters don't get happily ever afters.” His eyes flew open as his head whipped to the side, aided by a rather lovely palm swiftly applied to his cheek. He gulped and shrank back into the chair when he caught the look on Belle's face, cowering almost as though he was once again a spinner referred to as Hobblefoot.

 

“You dare hide behind an excuse that was old before I ever worked up the nerve to kiss you!?” Belle quickly stood and began pacing around the room, arms waving around as though wishing she could smack some sense into the man. “As though I am just some petite little doll with no idea of the harsh realities out there? As though you are the only one here with dark thoughts? I may not have lived with the curse of the Dark One, but I know something of the desire for power, the wish to be able to _force_ your will upon those who have been tormenting you.”

“Regina,” Rumplestiltskin guessed, although spat would probably be more accurate. Even as he continued cowering, his hands tightened on the arms of the chair until the sound of creaking wood reached his ears. But while he forced his hands to relax their grip, Belle stopped and sagged, almost like a puppet whose strings have been relaxed.

“No.” Slowly, so slowly it seemed a lifetime passed, Belle pulled off her shirt, baring her back to him, only the strap of her bra providing any cover for the myriad of scars that littered her skin. “The clerics.”

 

~~~</3~~~</3~~~</3~~~</3~~~</3~~~</3~~~</3~~~</3~~~

 

For a long moment, not a sound could be heard in the room other than their breathing, Belle's with a hitch, and Rumplestiltskin's with a harsh edge through gritted teeth. His eyes were locked on the criss-crossing scars, some thick, some thin, that should not have been there, should never have marred his Love's flesh. He sat for a long moment, unsure if he would be able to do anything other than go kill the bastards who had no right to even look at her, but had tortured his Belle.

 

He slowly rose, using the desk for support, stumbling as though lame again, and made his way to Belle. His hands ghosted along her back, barely touching the scars, wishing for once that this Belle before him was nothing more than a trick. A keening sound made it's way to his ears, and it took him a moment to realize it came from him.

 

“You said she lied,” he whispered, a plea in his voice to have not seen.

 

“She did. Just not completely.” Belle wrapped her arms around herself, and when she turned to look at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, he pulled her into his embrace. “I didn't want to tell you. You were so happy to have me back, to think that everything she said was a lie.” Rumplestiltskin let her cry into his chest while he stared blankly at the wall, a tick in his jaw the only indication he understood her. In the privacy of his own head, he called himself every foul name he had ever heard, and then made up new ones on the spot.

 

They stood that way for some time, until her tears dried and he could listen to her again without feeling as though he was a hair's breadth from bolting. “Towards the end, before the Queen took me to her dungeon, I thought I could understand how your power was more important to you than I was.” She confessed, speaking from the safety of his arms, taking the coward's way for once and not forcing herself to look him in the eye. “I would have given anything to stop them, to have them on the ground in front of me with their skin barely held together. But the only thing that would have stopped them was renouncing you. And if I could not have you, I would at the least not tarnish my memories of you.”

 

Rumplestiltskin stepped back slightly, not releasing Belle from his grasp, but making it so he could look her in the eye. His breath caught in his throat, and he reached up to wipe some of the tears away. “If it would have saved you a single moment of that torment, I would rather that you had.” And with that, he closed the distance and kissed her sweetly, an apology and reassurance that his love was still true all in one.

 

Belle went weak-kneed at the emotions in the kiss, surrendering herself to it, and him, completely. But as the kiss continued, she began to pour her own love, and passion, into it. Before long, the sweet chaste kiss Rumplestiltskin had begun had transformed into need, as they both felt the remembered fear and loss from their separation. He pulled her tight against him, and she responded by tangling her hands in his hair.

 

With barely a thought, Rumplestiltskin picked Belle up and deposited her on the desk, standing in between her legs, his hands running up and down her back, memorizing the feel of her skin, ignoring the scars for the time being, instead focusing on the fact that even after all he had put her through, she was still with him. Her hands began their own dance, unbuttoning his shirt until he felt her touch his bare chest, and he stilled, trapping her hand with his own.

 

“This will not be the slow, soft loving that princesses dream of,” he warned, even as his eyes fairly glowed with need. She looked back, the same need reflecting back at him.

 

“Then it is a good thing I do not dream the dreams of other princesses. I bear scars enough, I would have some put there by your hands,” she paused, looking at his hand, “although that seems less likely than it would have been in the Dark Castle.” They shared a small smile, remembering the sharpness of the Dark One's nails. But Belle quickly grew serious again, wanting him to understand, finally, and question her no more. “If you believe yourself a monster, then it is a monster I love. I do not care how black or shriveled you feel your heart is, so long as it you give it to me. My own love is not as pure as it once was, but it all yours. Take it, and me, and let us be together.” Saying so, she flexed the hand held to his chest, and drew her nails down slightly. With the flash of pain, Rumplestiltskin let go of the tenuous hold he had maintained over his own passion.

 

It was like being caught up in a force of nature, a tiny corner of Belle's mind thought, the rest of it drowning in the feeling of Rumplestiltskin's hands and mouth finally on her. He had her at the very edge of the desk, and she could feel his growing hardness pressing against her core. She held onto him as he trailed biting kisses down her neck and along her shoulder before coming back for another kiss, even as he worked to remove her bra. A low cry of success escaped him as he finally succeeded, and he could see her breasts.

 

Belle gasped when Rumplestiltskin began to worship her, and writhed in pleasure as he used his mouth to stimulate one breast, even as he fondled the other. Finally she could take no more, and pulled his mouth back to hers, going back to tracing the lines of his back with her fingers. Her hands burned him through his shirt, until with a low snarl, he pulled back from her and tore it off. She let out a moan of appreciation at the feel of his skin on hers, and he hissed in pleasure/pain as her nails drew pink lines down his back.

 

With one last kiss, Rumplestiltskin stood, and backed away a step, fumbling with the fastening of his pants. On the desk, Belle pulled her own pants off as quickly as she could, sitting up, watching Rumplestiltskin as he finally stepped out of his pants and returned. He used his hand to prepare her, his finger sliding in and his thumb stimulating her clit as he kissed her again. She quickly grew accustomed to one finger, and so he added another, trailing his lips down to nip at her shoulder even as she came around his fingers. “This is going to hurt,” he warned in a low voice while he lined himself up at her entrance.

 

“It wouldn't be us if it didn't,” she panted in reply while wrapping her legs around him and with a flex joined them.

 

Rumplestiltskin's eyes rolled back in his head at the feeling of finally being sheathed in his Love, even as Belle let out a small sound of pain, tears springing to her eyes. With great force of will, he held himself still, kissing the tears from her cheeks and running his hands up and down her sides. After what felt like an eternity, Belle began shifting, testing the waters, and he took that as permission to move. He pulled out slightly, pushing back in, and as she mewled in pleasure, he picked up both speed and force, until the sound of flesh slapping together echoed throughout the room.

 

Rumplestiltskin's hands tightened where they held Belle's waist, and her fingers curved to claws at his back. “Love you, my Belle,” he forced out in between harsh pants, teeth clenched and forehead resting on her shoulder.

 

“And I love you, Rumplestiltskin,” Belle gasped out, only to trail off into a wordless cry of joy as she came again. Lost in her passion, her nails dug into his back, breaking the skin, and Rumplestiltskin found his release.

 

The two of them remained where they were for some time, her sitting on the edge of the desk, and he standing before her. Rumplestiltskin ran his hands through her hair, and Belle placed loving little kisses anywhere she could reach. After a while, he finally stepped back, and they began to put themselves back together. As Belle dressed, her eyes fell on the pile of clothing that had managed to somehow stay on the desk. She allowed a wicked smirk to cross her face.

 

“I still want a live show.”


End file.
